Wrecked

by Jeannine Colette

I watch his eyes slide back up my body, and when we’re staring eye-to-eye again, he breathes, “You might want to cover up a bit.”

  He nods good-bye to Jessica and Suzanne and leaves the bar as I blink at his departure.

  “Oh my God,” Jessica squeals, “you have to put in a word with him for me tomorrow!”

  In slow motion, my head moves to Jessica’s.

  “A word. With Adam.” I’m stuttering.

  “I like him so much. He’s cute and respectful. When we were dancing, we were talking, and he’s really funny. Can you believe that?”

  Yes, I can.

  She continues, “He’s not like the other guys I date. I mean, he saves people for a living! And can we talk about how good he looks in his uniform? I don’t know what it is about him, but lately, he’s been acting differently. I saw him in town the other day, and he was smiling. Oh God, that smile. I’m such a loser. I’m blushing. Do you see this? I am totally smitten.”

  I blink at Jessica, taking in her gushing. She never gets like this about guys, especially since her previous boyfriend cheated on her last year. All the girl wants in life is to meet a nice guy, settle down, and have babies. If there is anyone who is driven to find love, it’s Jessica.

  “Absolutely. I think you two would make a great couple!” I have the biggest smile on my face. “I think this calls for some shots!”

  When I hold up a bottle of Southern Comfort, Jessica claps in excitement. Suzanne, on the other hand, is giving me the biggest killjoy look I’ve ever seen.

  Ignoring her condemnation, I pour two shots, hand one to Jessica, and cheers.

  “So, you and Jessica were having a good time last night,” I say from my perch on a large rock.

  Adam is working at a table with a circular saw, cutting trim to go around the doors. Instead of answering my question, he makes a mark on the wood.

  “She’s a teacher at the middle school. A whiz at math.”

  He doesn’t flinch at my remarks. Just continues lining the wood up to the saw. He pulls the trigger, and the saw roars. He cuts the wood, turns the machine off, and blows the dust off the end of the trim.

  He’s not acknowledging my words, so I push forward. “Did you know she was Miss Teen Ohio? Growing up, she competed in a lot of pageants. It’s not all makeup and pretty dresses. She had to visit hospitals and hang with sick kids, volunteer at the soup kitchen…”

  He leans over, and I stop to admire his backside before continuing, “She’s a lifeguard, too. Knows CPR.”

  He lifts his forearm and wipes the sweat off his forehead. It’s ninety degrees today, and there’s no wind whistling through the trees. I walk over to a nearby cooler and grab two waters. I hand one of the bottles to Adam.

  “Thanks,” he says. He opens it and chugs the entire thing. His Adam’s apple dances with every gulp. When he’s done, he throws it in the nearby trash. “It’s fucking hot today.”

  I nod in agreement and open my water bottle. Adam’s yoga-pants-only policy is making me die of heat exhaustion. Hence, why I’m hanging in the shade while he plays with machines.

  As I take a drink, Adam crosses his arms in front of his body, grabs the hem of his T-shirt, and lifts it over his head. What’s left is nothing but gleaming golden-tan skin and a six-pack stomach sprinkled with dark hair. He even has a bit of a farmer’s tan from working outside in a T-shirt all day.

  I’m suddenly very cold. Ice cold. The water from my bottle misses my lips and falls down my T-shirt. I look down and jump back, holding my water bottle up in the air.

  “Crap!” I shout as I pull my shirt away from my chest.

  Adam laughs. “I thought you were all for wet T-shirt contests?”

  I tilt my head and give him the finger. “Don’t you wish?”

  “You okay over there?” His eyes are dancing.

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  I hold the bottle to my mouth to take an actual drink. I try not to look at his perfect body as he leans over the circular saw and makes another cut. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing those damn paint-splattered jeans that make his ass look spectacular. And the construction boots…

  “Leah?”

  I look up to his face.

  With a devilish grin, he says, “Do you mind grabbing my hammer?”

  “Huh?”

  “And my drill. I really need to screw something.”

  “Your what?”

  “I need to pound my hammer into a nail.”

  I bat my lashes, trying to decipher if he’s using dirty euphemisms or if he actually wants a hammer and a drill.

  “Leah, my hammer? My drill? I’ll carry the wood into the house, but I need you to get my tools.”

  Yeah, he actually means he wants supplies.

  “So, you really think Jessica and I should get together?”

  I nearly hammer a finishing nail into my finger. “Yes, I think you two would have fun together.” Taking the next nail from my pocket, I hold it up to the wood and lightly hammer it in. “Do you date, or are you a love-’em-and-leave-’em kinda guy?” I pat my bottom, looking for another nail in my pocket but don’t feel one.

  Adam holds a nail out to me. “What kind of question is that?”

  “I know everything about everyone in town. I never see you out with anyone. You mentioned that Maggie girl but no one else. Why is that?”

  Adam purses his lips. “I don’t know. Don’t have time. I work a lot. I’m not into the party scene.” He rises from the floor as he continues, “I don’t drink, and if I do, it’s just beer. Besides, most girls in this town don’t do it for me.”

  I try to ignore the pang of disappointment in my belly and hammer the next nail in, a little too rough.

  “Hey,” he says, obviously aware of the insult, “I didn’t mean you. I meant—”

  “It’s cool. I know what you meant.” I stand and grab the measuring tape from the ground near the toolbox. I measure the space between the end of the trim and the wall. “Besides, I get asked out all the time.”

  “Yeah.” His voice sounds indifferent. “I noticed.”

  I snake a pencil out from behind my ear and write the measurement on the wall. A memory pops into my head, making me laugh to myself. “This one time, I was out with Emma, and this guy came up to us. He put his hand in my drink, grabbed a piece of ice, and threw it on the floor.” I laugh again because the line is just too funny. “And he said, ‘I was just trying to break the ice.’”

  Taking a breath to control myself, I add, “Don’t worry. I know how to scare them off. He asked if I wanted to feel his biceps. I took my hand and rubbed it over the sleeve of his arm, and in the sultriest voice I could muster, I said, ‘Feels like boyfriend material.’” With a chuckle, I stand up. “He ran so fast.”

  I’m still smiling to myself as I turn around and come face-to-face with Adam. He’s not laughing at all. Instead, his brows are creased with a look in his eyes like he’s slightly dazed.

  “I almost forgot how much I love your stories.” His mouth curves into a lopsided grin.

  I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at the small line on the edge of his smile. It’s so perfect that I could lean over and kiss it.

  With a shake, I ignore that thought. “You gonna stand there all day? Because this trim isn’t going to cut itself.”

  I rush down the stairs with the measurements in hand and head outside to the circular saw.

  Adam comes up behind me. “You do this one.”

  Since my shirt is wet, the heat is more tolerable. I slide on goggles and make the cut. He gives a chin up to let me know it looks good. I cut a few more pieces, turn off the machine, and walk the wood upstairs. I’m hammering the piece of trim into the wall when I feel Adam come back into the room. I look back at him while I work.

  Paying way too much attention to the hammer in his hand, he nods his head, almost to himself. “You wouldn’t be upset at all if I asked Jessica to Velocity?”

  His question catches me off guard, and I
trip on the power cord, falling on the floor. “Fuck!”

  “Are you okay?” Adam is at my side, my wrist in his hand, and he guides me toward a bench.

  My skin is scraped but not bleeding. With puckered lips, he gently blows on the pulsing skin, and my injured knee is now the last thing on my mind.

  “You need an ice pack? I’m sure Toby has something in the truck.”

  He’s looking down at my leg, and I can’t help but stare at his sculpted jaw and the five o’clock shadow of gorgeous dark hair accenting those impossibly soft-looking lips. His hand is still holding on to mine, and the heat of skin-to-skin contact is making my wrist feel like the most erogenous zone on my body.

  “You look a little flush. You want a drink or something?” he says, releasing my hand and walking over to his cooler. He grabs an iced tea and hands it to me.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I love these.”

  “I remember.”

  Adam has this way of doing this thing to me. He keeps an emotional distance, yet every once in a while, there’s this reminder of a past—however brief—we once shared. It was just basketball in a driveway. It was only run-ins in the kitchen of his house or at Brad’s. It was the occasional car ride when one of our parents was dropping us off at places, but it happened. It was real.

  “Yeah, Brad got me hooked on ’em. He liked the raspberry.”

  “You liked peach.” His eyes are serious and sad yet full of want.

  I turn the bottle over and see the drink is peach iced tea.

  I inhale a sharp breath. For some unknown reason, I want to cry, and I have no freaking clue why. I don’t know if it’s because my stupid knee still hurts or because memories of Brad are coming to the forefront.

  Or maybe, most likely, it’s because Adam, who ignored me for years, remembers that I liked peach iced tea.

  I turn around and take a drink, not wanting to look at him. I don’t react to things like this. I’m happy and fun. Sad days are the worst days. Keep on keepin’ on. That’s what my man McConaughey says, and that’s how I live. I don’t cry over peach iced tea.

  I drain nearly half of the bottle and then hold it to my chest. “I think Velocity is a good idea.”

  His head pops up, his brows rising. “Really?”

  “Jessica is perfect for you. It’s time you started doing something for you again. Go out with a nice girl. Settle down.”

  He leans forward, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. “What about you?”

  My brows pop up. “Me?”

  “I know you have your rule about the bar being your only love. Have you considered ditching that rule?”

  With a smile, squashing the feelings boiling in my belly, I say, “I’m pretty sure I’m already in love with the perfect guy.”

  “That was fast.”

  “The heart wants what it wants, you know?”

  Adam nods his head, those eyes downcast. “Good for you. Nice guy?”

  I close my eyes and breathe, “He’s perfect.”

  We sit in silence for a few moments—me holding on to the cold bottle of tea and him looking down at my knee.

  “Can you give me Jessica’s number?” he asks.

  If the damn tea didn’t make me cry, his words are about to. But I won’t because I can’t. “I’d love to.”

  chapter THIRTEEN

  Adam doesn’t take Jessica to Velocity. He takes her bowling. You know who bowls? Real couples—that’s who. It’s so Joanie and Chachi that I can’t even.

  “Oh my God, I never thought I’d see the day when you stepped foot into a bowling alley!” Carolína says from behind the shoe rental counter. She’s a super-sexy Ecuadorian who fell in love with a guy on vacation and relocated to Cedar Ridge in order to be with him. For someone to move from exotic Ecuador with its gorgeous beaches and Amazon jungle to Ohio, it must really be love.

  “You and me both,” I reply to her comment.

  “What size are you?” she asks.

  I shoo her away. “I’m just here, scouting the area,” I say, turning my back to the counter and looking around.

  It’s cosmic bowling night, so the alley is darkened, the typical fluorescent lighting gone. Neon lights are illuminating the lanes with strobe lights shooting from the walls and overhead. It’s like an acid user’s paradise.

  “Scouting for what?” she asks, her perfectly white teeth glowing in the dark.

  “Oh, nothing, nothing.” Drumming my fingers on the ledge, I look down the lanes until I find the two lovebirds engaging in a little bowling alley foreplay.

  Jessica is pulling the you-bowl-so-well-please-show-me-how move. I roll my eyes. What’s worse is that Adam’s falling for it. He takes a step behind her, and with his body molded to hers, he guides her into perfect bowling form.

  “I’ll need a lane. Preferably lane three or five.”

  “They’re both taken. You’ll have to wait at least two hours.”

  “Two hours? That’s ridiculous.” I look back over to lane four where Jessica is hugging Adam after hitting a pin. Yes, just one single pin. “Whatever. Put me down. I’ll wait.”

  “Okay, what size are you?” She’s looking back at me with these bright brown eyes and luxurious dark hair and pointing to the rows of unattractive plastic-looking shoes, which have been worn by hundreds of strangers, lined up behind her.

  “There is no way I’m wearing those.” I point to my squeaky white Keds. “These’ll do.”

  Her pink lipstick highlights her flawless skin. She leans forward with a pointed finger and says, “When I go into your bar, I play by your rules. My alley, my rules. So, if you wanna bowl, you have to wear the shoes.”

  With a pinched face, I sneer at her. “Fine. Size seven.”

  “Leah?”

  A familiar voice says from behind me. I turn around to see Suzanne and Rory.

  “Hey, guys! Do you have a lane already?”

  They slowly nod their heads. I practically jump. This is so perfect. I can bowl with them and not look like the crazy lady who is bowling solo.

  “Who’s ready to go bowling?” I say with an excited squeal and a shimmy shake.

  Suzanne is staring at me with the most confused look on her face. “You don’t bowl,” she deadpans.

  “Of course I do,” I say. I take the ugly bowling shoes from Carolína. “And look! I get to wear these super-adorable shoes!”

  Suzanne folds her arms. “What’s going on with you?”

  “You’re always saying that I need to have some fun while I can. Tonight’s my night off, and I decided to try my hand at bowling.”

  Unsure of my honesty, Suzanne looks around the room. Hopefully, she won’t look over at lane four. If I’m lucky, she’ll look the other way.

  Nope. She’s looking down the lanes.

  Yep. She’s just spotted Adam and Jessica.

  “No!” Suzanne demands.

  “Sue—”

  “We talked about this. Stay away from him.”

  “I am.”

  She taps her foot, and her reprimanding face is on in full force.

  “Okay, fine,” I give in. “I just want to take a peek. See if they need help with getting to know each other.”

  She loosens up her arms and grabs me by the elbow, ushering me away from Carolína and Rory. With a hushed voice, she says, “Look, I know what you’re doing, and it’s going to do nothing but get one of you hurt. Besides, even you said that they would be great for each other. Just let them be, Leah. Okay? Can you do that?”

  I roll my head and look up at the ceiling. I let out a pout. I hate when she’s right. “Yes, I can do that.” I place the shoes back on the counter. “Killjoy.”

  Spinning around, I announce rather loudly into the room, “If you need me, I’ll be at home, clipping my toenails and watching a McConaughey film.” I let out a deep sigh and add, “All. By. Myself.”

  I start to walk away. My shoulders are hunched, and my walk is slow and pathetic.

  “Wait,” Suzanne calls o
ut.

  I halt with a smile.

  “Why don’t you hang out with me and Rory? No need to be home alone on your night off.”

  I twirl around, skip back, and lock my elbow with hers. “I love that idea. Can I have the purple ball?”

  Suzanne shakes her head. “This is not mini golf, Leah. You pick a ball based on the right weight.”

  “I’m a hundred and thirty pounds,” I state.

  Suzanne stops and looks back at me with a blank face. I widen my eyes so as to ask what the problem is. She just starts laughing and then pulls me along, Rory following.

  “You seriously are one of my favorite people in the whole world. Come on, let’s see what we can teach you.”

  Pop music is playing over the loudspeaker. I dance-walk to the sound of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” as we head to lane twenty-three. It’s literally the furthest lane we could possibly get from lane four. Between the strobe lights, packed lanes, and distance, I can’t see Jessica and Adam at all.

  Rory stands by a computer at the foot of our lane and starts poking at the keyboard. In the television screen above me, my name appears.

  “You’re up, Leah,” Rory says.

  I pick up the ball that Suzanne selected for me and toss it down the lane toward the pins. It’s not five feet from me before it makes a serious left hook and goes right into the gutter.

  “Well, that was awful,” I say.

  Suzanne is staring back at the pins in disbelief. “I’ve finally found the one thing you suck at.”

  I pinch her side, and she squeals.

  “Don’t look so happy about it.”

  “No, seriously. Other than playing music, which you are really bad at, you are the most driven person I know. Who would have known that bowling was your kryptonite?”

  I shake my head and then stick my tongue out at her. “Are you challenging me? Because I will not leave this place until I kick your ass in this game.”

  She holds out her hand. “You get two turns. Try again.”

  I take her hand. Then, I claim my ball that came up through the machine and march up to the line. This time, Suzanne stands next to me and shows me good form.

  “Put your fingers in the holes, and balance the ball on your palm. Hold it slightly to the right side of your body. Keep your knees bent, relax your shoulders, and put your left foot on the dotted line.”